All is but a Dream to Dread
by the-vampire-act
Summary: OneShot. William visits his son for Thanksgiving, and although it isn't perfect at first, he realizes it's pretty damn close. Pleaz see AA inside...


**This is my example for my new contest. If ur interested, pleaz check out my profile pg!**

**All is but a Dream to Dread**

Spencer Reid sat opposite of the man, his hands folded in his lap and his eyes stared straight ahead. The company that had joined him for the evening shared a similar position, but his somehow seemed more uptight. Finally, said company deliberately dropped his glass on the tabletop, letting the sound ring as it clanked and slid.

"It's snowing," he started. "I'm not used to seeing snow in late November."

"I suppose that also co-relates with not used to seeing me. You haven't visited me in, well, just about twenty years, so thus you haven't been to Quantico often enough to get used to the snow." Spencer knew that he wasn't being fair, but he didn't care at the moment. The visit was unexpected at the very least, and it was also uncalled for. Of course, deep down he knew that the visit had to take place sooner or later, but he was really hope it would be 'later'.

"It's a two-way street, kid." William sighed.

"Bullshit," Spencer muttered as he picked up his glass of severely spiked eggnog. The younger Reid was too busy thinking about the irony of himself keeping the Reid-family tradition of Thanksgiving eggnog to realize that he father was now glaring at him. Reluctantly, he allowed himself to look up at his father. "We both know that it's almost impossible for me to visit with my job being so demanding." That seemed to stir up more anger in William, so his son kept pushing. "Oh come on, tell me we both don't know it's true," he smirked. Suddenly, Spencer remembered why he normally didn't get drunk- or, well, close to drunk, that was. He had the tendency to speak before thinking, and when you had an eidetic memory for 187 and a low-tolerance to absentee fathers who randomly reappear 20-odd years later, the combination created could be deadly.

"Don't be a smart-ass, Spencer. It's not attractive." William spat back.

"Yeah, well, apparently neither is schizophrenia." He knew that he wasn't being fair again, and he knew that that was a hit below the belt for William, but he honestly couldn't find it in him to care.

"So this is what you're like drunk." William huffed. " 'Honestly never thought I'd get the pleasure of finding that out first-hand."

"Well congratulations." Spencer rolled your eyes. "You've learned something new today."

"Yeah, that I just wasted a plane ticket and a Thanksgiving break from work." It was evident to William that his son was in no mood to hold a meaningful conversation, so he chose to ignore his son altogether after that.

They ate their store-bought, pre-cooked turkey in silence, and neither of them dared say a word. Halfway through dinner, Spencer slammed his fork down against his plate and stood up. "Make yourself at home," he muttered as he walked out of the room. William could hear his son's footsteps as they drunkenly stumbled down the miniature hallway, and he heard as the door slammed less than subtly back into its frame.

William too abandoned his dinner, finding that he was suddenly full. He sighed as he properly placed the leftover dishes into the empty fridge and cleaned up the rest of the mess left over. Once the kitchen-slash-dining room was cleaned to his satisfaction, he made himself comfortable in his son's miniature living room, and as he curled up on the tight corners of the couch, he was suddenly grateful that he owned a house.

In three hours, William had channeled-surfed through 87 channels 856 times, went to the bathroom out of pure boredom 6 times, paced the small living room 12 times, and, out of habit, almost- _almost- _checked on his son at least….well, numbers were just that- numbers. As he was making his way around another channel-surfing marathon, he felt a sudden presence enter the room. He looked up and let a frown form on his face.

Spencer let his eyes wander to the now turned-off TV, his curly hair astray and his nightly attire, a plain tight shirt and a pair of baggy plaid sweatpants (a combination that his father could never really understand), giving him an even younger appearance than he did any other day of the week. For just moment, William was reminded of a much younger Spencer curled up on his chest after a horrible nightmare. He knew better than to expect anything like that from his 20-something year old son, and he sighed. He motioned for his drunken song to join him, and the younger Reid reluctantly did so.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Spencer mumbled.

"No," William replied. He scooted over on the small couch, and he pulled Spencer down next to him. Of course, the less than lucid man went down without protest.

A few uncomfortable moments passed where both men just stared at the ceiling, but soon enough, Spencer finally gave in and rested his head against his father's shoulder. Instantly, his eyes closed and he was fast asleep at last.

William played with his son's hair as he let him sleep peacefully against him. He hadn't got the father-son moment he had been hoping for, but he'd settle with this for now. As William Reid too closed his eyes, he tried to think about happy and warm things, but, of course, he was unsuccessful. Because after all, all was but a dream to dread in the end, and no matter how hard you tried to morph that nightmare into a blissful dream, the darkness always beat the light to it. So William settled for the darkened dreams, and he even smiled as he fell to sleep.

**~* All is but a dream to Dread *~ **

**For some reason, I really liked this one! Thnx for reading everyone; I hope this inspires someone to enter! **


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